


Odds & Ends

by Regency



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: A place for Berena prompt fills and fanfic tidbits from Tumblr1. Fic Trope Mashup #1: Coffee shop AU meets Accidental Eavesdropping2. Fic Trope Mashup #2: Sick/Injured Fic meets Bed Sharing3. Fic Trope Mashup #3: Birthday Fic meets Poorly Timed (Love) Confession





	1. Fic Trope Mashup #1: Home Brew

**Author's Note:**

> I probably should have made a catch-all for these a million years ago, but *shrug*. If I find any old prompt fills I haven't published here, I'll add them to this story. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Coffeeshop AU meets Accidental Eavesdropping
> 
> _Bernie and Serena fall in love and fall apart over coffee. But coffee also brings them back together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com/post/174067105875/4-58-berena-of-course).

Bernie and Serena frequent the same non-descrip coffee shop every single day. They’re familiar to each other in the way you become familiar with people you always see but don’t really speak to. They learn a lot of details about each other passively. Learn each other’s names from the baristas handing out their orders, overhear little details from hearing the other talk on the phone or talking with colleagues they meet in line. They smile when they catch each other’s eyes. Friendly but not friends.

Over time, however, they both individually decide they’d like to be friends so they start to do each other little favors. If Serena arrives first and she catches sight of Bernie in line behind her, she’ll pay for Bernie’s coffee order and leave it for her with the barista. The first time it happens, Bernie rushes outside to thank her but Serena’s already headed in to work. After that Bernie makes sure to return the gift; if she’s in line first and sees Serena, she’ll pay for her coffee. She even throws in a pain au chocolat on the days Serena looks especially stressed. That’s their ritual, having each other’s back from afar.

And then Bernie’s divorce rolls around. Every time Serena sees Bernie after that, she looks miserable herself, enough so that it disrupts the fog Serena is moving around in as she balances her duties as deputy CEO and auntie with the doldrums from breaking up with Robbie.  Serena doesn’t think a dessert’s going to do it this time, so she channels her inner Morven and begins penning brief cheer-up notes for the barista to give Bernie. The first one she sticks around for, watching from across the street to make sure Bernie gets it.

Bernie receives her complimentary black coffee and her scone with an absent nod, but the note gives her pause. She steps out of the way of the line to unfold the note written on the back of Serena’s receipt.  _‘If you’re going through hell, keep going. You’ll get through this. I have faith in you. -S’_ When Bernie looks around for Serena, she’s smiling. It’s the first time in weeks. Serena leaves without waiting for a thank you; she’s done what she came to do.

What began as a one-sided gift giving becomes a routine exchange. A tit for tat. A quid pro quo where one offers to lay down their burdens and the other offers to pick them up. A courting ritual neither of them recognizes they’re undertaking until they’re well in deep.  They’re friends now despite never holding a face-to-face conversation, but there’s also something else there. Bernie recognizes it first, but Serena is the first to call it what it is.

Bernie’s been away for a few weeks since then, ostensibly to get her head on straight; in actuality, something like running scared. She’d patronized St. James’ hospital coffee shop in the interim, to her detriment. It’s nothing to compared to this place. Their place. The baristas at work recognize her but don’t know her order by heart. They don’t pass her cup over without reciting the cost. They don’t smile knowingly and hand her receipts signed  _-S_  that make her pulse quicken. There’s nothing she wants there, not even the coffee, when the jolt she seeks out each morning doesn’t come in a recyclable cup. 

Bernie comes back to find Serena the only person in line, her silhouette recognizable through the polished glass door.  Bernie could leave and Serena wouldn’t see her. She could play keep away from the person, and the coffee, she wants into infinity, only she worries she wouldn’t be the only one hurt by her cowardice.  Serena rubs her neck, gazing up at the detailed menu. Probably ready to try something else now that her old standbys have deserted her.

“Done with black coffee?” asks the barista who’s seen them through this little dance of theirs and cheered them on with a smile. He isn’t smiling his usual any more than Bernie is. 

“More like it’s done with me.” Serena shrugs, the gesture as tired as she sounds. “Can’t wait forever, can I?”

Bernie slips into the shop, keeping a few feet clear of Serena, though close enough to follow their conversation. The barista looks to her without registering surprise. She feels predictable.

 “Recommend me something good. I’m in the mood for a change.”

Bernie clears her throat. “You could let me buy you dinner this time. That change enough for you?”

For a moment Bernie questions whether Serena will recognize her voice. They have only really communicated in secondhand exchanges shared with other people. Handwritten notes aren’t everything.

Serena pulls her shoulders back from their hunched position.  Bernie knows that posture, has seen it on bad mornings and the evenings after them, when Serena has to fake having the wherewithal to keep going. The tiredness in her voice doesn’t abate though it does grow thorns, “I asked you to dinner before. I got the impression you weren’t interested.”

Bernie’s disappearing act–she prefers to think of it as a tactical retreat, not that she’s in charge of keeping score anymore. “I was too interested.”

She motions toward her usual selection on the menu and joins Serena at the counter while their barista gins up two Americanos scalding hot. They’ve beat the morning rush somehow, just the two of them and a few university students half-asleep on the MacBooks in the corners.  Serena is still perusing the black and white board right up until a steaming cup with a travel top and a croissant in a wax wrapper are placed in front of her.

“I didn’t order this.”

Bernie gathers her nerve, Serena’s last note still burning a hole in her coat pocket. “My treat. It’s the least I can do since I left you waiting.” Three weeks must feel like three months when it comes to something like this. She feels like a schoolgirl, her stomach in knots, her heart in her throat. You see, the thing is, she quite likes Serena.

Serena turns the paper cup holder to keep from meeting her eyes. “You could have said no.”

“I didn’t want to say no; I just wasn’t ready to say yes.”

Serena finally looks at her. There it is, her own regrets on display. Her own enforced loneliness. Her own resolve tenfold in Serena what it is in herself. Because Serena has been sure of what she wanted since she recognized it for what it was; Bernie is the one playing catch-up.

“Are you ready now?”

Bernie takes the receipt their barista hands her. She signs the merchant copy and returns it. The customer copy she flips print-side down and sketches something quick and, she hopes, life-changing, before sliding it over to Serena. Deja vu.

_‘Yes -B’_

Bernie and Serena exchange tentative smiles. It will take time, but this can be fixed. They can be fixed and Bernie will see to it that they are.  Some things, some people, are too sweet to pass up. Bernie won’t pass on Serena.

 


	2. Fic Trope Mashup #2: Close to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sick/Injured Fic meets Bed Sharing
> 
> _Instead of jumping right in, Bernie and Serena opt to take it slow after their first kiss. There are some mishaps, but they make the most of them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com/post/174063382565/27-75-guess-what-ship-p).

Serena and Bernie aren’t quite dating yet but there’s tension in the air. Instead of making a big production of it, they decide by unspoken agreement to see where this thing takes them.  Consequently, they’ve started spending a lot of time together off-hours. Not just at Albie’s, but out to the movies or out for dinner. On one memorable occasion Serena talks Bernie into dancing with her at a jazz club, and the ensuing encounter leaves her so unsteady she has to forego wine for the remainder the night. Being wrapped in Bernie’s arms on a crowded dance floor while she murmurs half-remembered song lyrics in her ear is an advanced level of seduction. Baby steps.

So they dial it back a bit, for both their sake. Serena wants to be sure this is real. Bernie wants Serena to be sure this is what she wants. So no more cinema and no more candle lit dinners at that Italian place Serena likes. Not yet. They get takeaway delivered at one of their places and watch Netflix till late. They touch more and talk more. Confide and commiserate. They cement the friendship to support the love story. And so it grows.

The day of their latest Not a Date night, they work separate shifts. Bernie worked the night before and Serena’s caught the regular day shift starting in the morning. They meet at the office for the shift handover, slipping in the usual anticipatory patter between reports of patients in need of further obs and gripes about self-replicating discharge forms. Serena promises to handle it; Bernie promises to order her favorite from that Moroccan place she likes.  Serena asks her to leave the light on for her, and Bernie says she will. She doesn’t kiss Serena before she leaves the office, but she thinks about it.

The weather is overcast much of the day, but by the time Serena clocks out, it’s taken a turn for the grimmer. It’s raining cats and dogs, such that Serena considers cancelling her favorite event of the week.  Only the day has been hard and with little but an empty house to look forward to with Jason away at Alan’s, Serena’s opts to risk it. She makes it to Bernie’s but finds there’s no place to park that isn’t a country mile away. She finds somewhere to park and makes the trek on foot.

Bernie, for her part, would be happy if Serena would answer her phone. Serena isn’t usually late, that’s rather more Bernie’s idiosyncrasy, but she’s definitely late this time. Bernie had seen the weather report and dialed the office to see if Serena wanted to reschedule. Raf had answered, told her Serena had gone. Bernie had tried her phone as well and gotten nothing. Not in itself a problem. One missed call in the scheme of things isn’t a problem. Three missed calls and two unanswered texts are more of an issue. Bernie isn’t the type to catastrophize; she’s seen the worst and mended it.  She knows Serena hasn’t gone ghost on her, those doubts are well behind her, but she worries a little.  Life is as unpredictable as love. Either can end at a moment’s notice.

Bernie gets two steps out of her front door before she runs into Serena.

By the time Serena’s reaches her destination, she’s well past her appointed hour and soaked to the skin. Her coat had and scarf have seen better days and she squelches when she walks. It doesn’t help that sometime since she left work the temperature dropped. She’s a sorry sight and Bernie bundles her up into the house straight away to start warming her up. Were her teeth chattering slightly less, she’d hear Bernie mutter, “thank god” against her shoulder when she hugs her.  She feels her worry and exasperation and gratitude anyway when Bernie divests her of her sodden clothes, then sets her up with a hot shower and something warm to dress in.

It’s an old sweatshirt from Bernie’s university, oversized and worn at the collar and wrists. Thick socks and some sleep pants Serena left behind the one time they thought staying the night wouldn’t be too much temptation too soon. That she hasn’t come back for them yet says it’s only been a matter of when, not if. Were Serena feeling anything other than chilled to her marrow, she might be warmed how ready Bernie is to have her stay over. Instead she makes a beeline for the couch fully intended to steal the nearest blanket and hibernate for the next eight hours, all the while stealing Bernie’s body heat if she can get away with it. Bernie has a slightly different plan.

“Don’t get too comfortable. The sofa’s not our destination.”

Serena swallows around the hoarseness gathering in her throat that’s sure to become a cold soon. “If this is your idea of a seduction, your timing could do with fine-tuning.”

Bernie filches the afghan Serena was hugging to her chest and wraps it around her shoulders.  “Don’t you worry about my timing. I think you’ll find it’s exemplary soon enough.”

“But not tonight?” There it is, a definite croak developing.  Some part of Serena that isn’t fretting over who’ll cover her shift tomorrow frets that she certainly won’t be kissing any army medics tonight.

Bernie directs Serena toward the door at the end of a short hallway, a place Serena has been before if not for the reasons she’s hoped. Bernie’s bedroom. It’s as chaotic as she is, hit by a whirlwind yet with its own sense of order. A circle has been cleared around the bed, obviously for her benefit. Bernie turns down the bed.

“In you go.”

“Bernie.”

“No arguments. You’re always complaining about my body temperature, now it’s some use to you. Get in the bed, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“Don’t think you can boss me around just because you’ve got rank on your side.”

Bernie leans in. “I boss you around because you like it, the rank’s just flair. Stay here.” Bernie leaves Serena gobsmacked on the edge of her bed. It’s soon to admit Bernie’s not entirely wrong. Serena gets in the bed, as ordered. Bernie’s pillows are fluffy, like new. Like she bought them with someone in mind.

Bernie reappears with her laptop and slips under the covers, propping the computer on her lap. Netflix is already on screen and queued up are a bunch of movies they’ve both mentioned wanting to see.

“Anything catch your eye?” Bernie leaves a conspicuous gap between them.  Serena scoots over to close it. She feels pleasantly toasty and too hot simultaneously, Bernie’s proximity awakening multiple physiological responses. She’ll ignore them until she can’t.

“Practical Magic,” Serena decides. Something she’s seen often enough it won’t require her full attention; something to dilute the tension.

Bernie employs a less than subtle maneuver to cuddle Serena into her side. Serena is warmer than she should be but not burning yet; everywhere Bernie touches her, Serena would disagree. “I’ve never seen it.”

Serena snuggles down under the surprisingly indulgent duvet as much as she can without losing contact with Bernie. It’s going to be unbearable in a couple of hours if she has caught cold; it’s heaven now. That could be the company. “It’s about women who get in a spot of trouble and then get each other out of it.”

Bernie joins her in the eiderdown. She looks less worried than when she met Serena at the door. She feels less worried than back then. Their socked feet knock somewhere among the sheets, some new intimacy achieved. “My kind of story.”

Serena finds Bernie’s hand  to lace their fingers together. She’s very sleepy, very warmed, and she now recognizes, very loved. “Mine, too.”

They’re asleep before the end of the opening scene.

 


	3. Fic Trope Mashup #3: Many Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Birthday Fic Meets Poorly Timed (Love) Confession
> 
>  
> 
> _Bernie will do everything in her power to ensure her best friend has the best possible birthday, even if that means accepting the possibility of her moving on to someone else. It just so happens, Serena has something to say about that..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](http://sententiousandbellicose.tumblr.com/post/174095051880/birthday-fic-and-poorly-timed-confession-for).

Today is Serena’s birthday and tonight Serena has a date to celebrate with and Bernie’s fine with that. So what if they kissed in theater after Fletch’s near miss. So what if Serena fluttered about her for days afterward, flushed and shaken, and staring at her lips as if she wanted the revisit their encounter in every locked room they passed. They’re going to leave that in theater. They had agreed. They agree. They’ve spoken no more about it.

Which doesn’t mean Bernie can think about anything else. 

They’ve gotten through today the usual way, filling the office, the locker room, the scrub room, and theater with banter and loaded silence.  Nonetheless, Bernie finds it hard to think past the tension. Part of it is Bernie’s erstwhile imagination sketching scenarios where Bernie might successfully kiss Serena again. The rest is the ringing noise that ensues when Bernie overhears about Serena’s “hot date” (Fletch’s description).

Bernie puts her feelings aside as best she can and approaches the nurses station with her patient file. She swaps it out for a new one, tries not to try so hard to be casual.  Serena was her friend before she was a woman Bernie kissed–who had kissed her back, passionately, desperately before she backed away–and Serena is still her friend. Bernie has destroyed enough friendships to recognize the tipping point; she won’t push them over.

She peruses the test results in the current file and drifts into Serena’s orbit. Not intimately close. Closer than she needs to be.

“So.” Bernie course corrects when she feels Serena stiffen when their elbows brush. She doesn’t move away, won’t let a physical gulf grow between them when it’s the contact she craves. Serena relaxes as if thinking the same. They’re greater than this unspoken thing. They’ll come through intact. Bernie exhales, grimaces. The file in her hand is crinkled from her grabbing on too tight.

“So?” Serena finally replies. Her arm against Bernie’s is a constant reminder, a weight. A promise. Bernie clears her throat.

“So you have a date tonight. Who’s the lucky chap? Anybody we know?” Bernie isn’t jealous. She’s a friend inquiring after the birthday plans of a friend. Acceptable behavior, that.

“Ah, I don’t think you’ve met. At least you haven’t come up yet and we’ve talked a little about work.”

“An employee at the hospital.”  _Awkward. No–not awkward._  Bernie can handle that.   _It was only a kiss._ One of the most enjoyable, arousing kisses Bernie’s ever had with a woman Bernie wants to distraction. “He must be exceptional to convince you to break your own rule about workplace romance.”

An unreadable expression flits across Serena’s face. “I…sure.”

Serena’s caginess piques her curiosity. “Is it a surprise?”

Serena rubs the back of her neck.“It’s new. I’ve never–it’s not really someone I’ve considered before.” Bernie mentally ticks through the staff at the hospital, all the other consultants.

“Not Ric?”

“That ship sailed and sank many moons ago,” she says, sounding grateful.

“Henrik?”

“I don’t think I’m in his wheelhouse and he’d never date a subordinate if I were and happened to be interested. No, it’s none of the permanent staff.” A hint. 

“One of the locums on ED caught your eye.” Serena’s hand stills where she’s scrolling through imaging results on a tablet.

“Obs and Gynae, actually.” Bernie doesn’t remember any male consultants moonlighting on that floor. Not that they’re her wheelhouse, either. She could have missed one.

“I don’t think I’ve met them.”   Bernie has passively noted Serena’s complete avoidance of pronouns when discussing her date.  She prods the idea where it’s taken root in her mind, finds it sensitive as a cracked tooth.

“Maybe not.” The subtle easing of tension near her eyes when Bernie switches to neutral pronouns cinches it.   _That’s that, then._ She strikes ‘dyed-in-the-wool heterosexual’ off the list of reasons they could never work. Bernie herself is the only ‘con’ left.

“Maybe tonight?” The AAU crew is having a round of drinks at Albie’s to toast Serena’s birthday after work. May as well rip the plaster clean off. Meeting this other person will help Bernie get over this…crush. That’s what she wants. Absolutely.

“Maybe,” hedges Serena before she leaves to see to a patient in bay 3.

Maybe.

*

Bernie stalls giving Serena her gift till five minutes before the end of shift. It feels silly, it isn’t even a real gift, more of a joke, but she wants Serena to have it. Serena is her friend and co-lead.  She can do without the rest.

Serena interrupts her navel-gazing to start packing her things. “Is it serious? Whatever it is that’s kept you preoccupied for the last half-hour.”

“I was rethinking my gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” Never mind that Serena had gifted Bernie twenty-year old Scotch whiskey for her birthday a few months earlier, had secured her a designated parking spot beside her own, and somehow got her hands on sold-out tickets to a show Bernie had been dying to see.  Reciprocation is non-negotiable.

Serena logs off the system and begins straightening her side of the office.  The next consultant to cover AAU will silently thank her for leaving them room to work and give Bernie’s widespread pandemonium a wide berth. 

“I didn’t. It’s silly, it’s nothing.”

Serena parks her hip on the edge of Bernie’s cluttered desk and holds out her hand. “You can’t say that and then deprive me of the pleasure. Hand it over.”

“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.”

“You gave me an AAU survival kit, I like your idea of ridiculous.”

Bernie retrieves a slim booklet from her desk drawer. Similar to a checkbook, it folds back to reveal a series of vouchers, each one redeemable for a single favor from Bernie. A night out for the two of them. Dinner for three with Jason. An evening alone for Serena where Bernie will keep Jason occupied. One shift free of admin. Lunch, Bernie’s treat. There are twenty total, ranging from simple tasks (buying coffee from Pulses) to more laborious undertakings (weeding Serena’s garden).  Bernie is a woman of action; when it comes to showing Serena they’re okay, her actions will say more than she can.

Serena flips through the book twice and then again.  “You’re wrong. There isn’t anything ridiculous about this.” She steels herself and hands the booklet back. “I can’t accept this, Bernie. It’s too much.”

Bernie refuses to take it. “It’s what I want you to have. Whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, I have your back.” She raises her chin toward the book caught in Serena’s grasp. “There’s the proof.”

She looks at Bernie the way she did before she stopped looking at her at all, like she’s grateful their office door locks from the inside. “Thank you. I promise not to take terrible advantage of your generosity.”

“They’re all one-time use. I’m generous, not an idiot.”

Bernie signs off the computer system, keeping Serena in her peripheral view. Serena keeps skimming the vouchers.  Bernie feels warm inside at the look of uncomplicated happiness on her best friend’s face.  She wants Serena to have that, to feel that all the time.  That must be what love is.

She buries the thought as soon as it manifests. She knows what love is; before they ever kissed, Bernie loved her already.

“Walk over to Albie’s with me?” Bernie doesn’t bother clearing her desk much beyond tossing out the leftover’s of yesterday’s lunch. Serena’s exasperated tidying is background noise to Bernie donning her coat and scarf.

“Give me a minute. I just remembered I need to make a phone call.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Bernie flashes her a quick smile on her way out the door. The hard part is done. Here’s comes the hardest.

“Oh, Bernie?”  Bernie stops at the door to look back. Serena’s there, gift in hand. “Thank you, again.”

“Whatever you need.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.” She levies the booklet. “It’s nice to have someone to rely on.”

Bernie wants to say she’ll always be there for Serena to rely on. That she’ll be brave if Serena finds someone else, another woman, another person. Someone to kiss as urgently as she kissed Bernie in theater, to take to bed as Bernie has wanted to for months on end. She wants to be that good. But maybe she isn’t. Maybe she’s only worth twenty good deeds and no more. Tonight will tell.

She smiles to camouflage her doubt. “ _Whatever_ you need.”

It rings like the truth.

*

They walk to Albie’s just behind the others getting off work at the same time. There’s a table already waiting when they arrive.  Serena’s drinks are comped for the rest of the evening, provided she leaves soon.  She’s refreshed her makeup and brushed her hair.  Bernie catches a hint of intoxicating perfume rising from her neck. Her date will be lucky, whoever they are.

Serena and Bernie end up sitting side by side, sandwiched between Morven chattering on their left and Fletch conversing with Raf on their right. The conversation is a jumble of shop talk and gossip. Morven wants to participate in an experimental trial upstairs, Cameron might be returning; the two are related somehow.  Jac Naylor made a grown man cry this morning on Darwin; apparently someone has video.

Well wishers pass through wishing Serena a happy birthday. Sacha surprises her with a bear hug that makes her laugh. Ric greets her with a card and a kiss on the cheek on his way out to a date of his own. Henrik reminds her of the time off she’s yet to take, that she’s  _earned_ , he emphasizes.  His ‘many happy returns’ is dignified and well-taken. Jason presented her gift at breakfast before work. They have plans for their own celebration tomorrow.

When the stream has slowed to a trickle, Fletch whistles to one of the servers as a signal. The lights go down, the chatter around their table dies out but for Morven’s excited clapping, and the servers appear bearing a large cake and a modest number of candles. Bernie gets up and moves her chair. The others join her.  Though Serena rolls her eyes at the fanfare, she’s fighting a losing battle against a grin.

“I may be youthful for my age, but eight candles?” Serena inquires as glasses and bowls of nuts are cleared to make way for the serving platter.

Fletch shrugs, eyes twinkling. “Seems right to me, boss.”

“Good answer.”

Raf leads them in a shockingly harmonious rendition of Happy Birthday that all the patrons participate in. Apparently Henrik and Ric were waiting to join in. Bernie stands behind her, hands on her shoulders. When Serena looks up at her, she can’t read her expression entirely. Understands enough from how she covers Bernie’s hands with her own to know she’s happy.

The cake is a large rectangle frosted with AAU blue buttercream and decorated with a stethoscope and a bottle of Shiraz.

“You’re all comedians.”

“It was Morven’s idea!”

Morven and Fletch point the finger at each other. They’re all guilty. Serena only laughs.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Raf proffers a serving spatula. “Share your cake?”

Bernie passes Serena paper plates as she fills each one with a slice of butter and chocolate marble cake. There’s enough for everyone in Albie’s. Bernie makes sure she saves the biggest slice for herself.

Once everyone’s settled down for drinks and cake, Bernie returns to her place at Serena’s side.

“Not a bad party for a school night.”

“Not at all.” That’s when Bernie notices Serena’s gone misty-eyed. “All right?”

“More than all right. I haven’t had a birthday like this in a while.”

“There’ll be more.”

Serena nods and eats her cake. Bernie senses there’s something she isn’t saying, but isn’t sure how to start that conversation when there’s so much she isn’t ready to say, either. She checks the clock. They’ve been here for an hour. If Serena’s going to beat the dinner rush, she’ll have to go soon.  Just as she’s about to tentatively mention it, because a good friend would and Bernie is  _trying_ , Raf appears with the rest of the AAU staff in attendance at this little impromptu party.

“All right, boss, it’s getting late and I know you’ve got a hot date, so we figure we should get the gift-giving out of the way.”

Serena sits up eagerly. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” They probably shouldn’t have, according to the Code of Employee Conduct Bernie had skimmed when the idea had originally been introduced, but they’d gone ahead anyway with some care.

“You’ve had a rough couple of years, we all have.” There’s a moment of silence for Arthur. For all their losses, individual and collective.  “You’ve come through for all of us. We wanted to do a little something for you.” He offers her a large envelope.

She narrows her eyes at all of them. “All right. Let’s see.” She empties the package’s contents onto the table. A brochure and a ticket holder. A reservation for a resort in Portugal and a set of plane tickets for two. “You’re kidding.”

“No trick. No joke,” says Raf for them all.

“You can’t.”

“We can, actually,” Bernie remarks, earning her a disbelieving glare from Serena. “I checked the rules. We all contributed less than the maximum permissible price of a gift to a direct supervisor.”

“This must have cost–”

Fletch interrupts her. “Not too much. I know people.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She sighs. “This is…” She looks at Bernie, at the rest of them, and shakes her head. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“Anything for the best boss I’ve ever had.” Morven and Raf and Lou and the others all assent.

“Oh come here, you.” Serena gets up to hug Fletch and Morven and Raf, and everyone from the ward in attendance. When she gets back to Bernie, this hug lasts twice as long as any other.  “This has you all over it.”

Bernie is unrepentant. “I didn’t say the book was your only gift.”

“Likely story.” Serena sits down. She’s overwhelmed and happy. Good.  She drinks her wine and smiles at everyone and doesn’t check her mobile once. Her date must be running late, Bernie thinks. Thinks they don’t deserve her, whoever they are.

Serena scans the details of the resort’s accommodation for the third time. “You could come with me.”

Bernie wishes someone else had remained with them at the table. But there’s music playing and a darts league forming. There’s cake. There’s a romantic trip for two and two women who aren’t anything like romantic anymore.

“It’s a weekend trip. You should take someone you love.” She regrets saying that. “Or want to get to know better.”  Like the locum with no name who Bernie no longer cares to meet.  Who will kiss Serena like Bernie had and make love to Serena like Bernie hadn’t. Won’t.

Bernie is nibbling at the remains of her cake when she hears Serena say, “That’s two for two.”

“Sorry.” She heard her clearly. That’s why she doesn’t believe her.

Serena plucks one of the tickets from the ticket holder and pushes it toward Bernie.  “There’s nobody else I want to know better.”  _Two for two, she said._

“Your date.”

“I cancelled it.”   _She said she loves me._  There seems to be a terrified bird trapped in her chest.  Common sense tells her it must be her heart making a bid to escape.

“Cold feet?” she asks, ignoring the heart-bird and the fear.  The only item left on the list of reasons why not is Bernie herself and she’s striking herself off.

“The wrong woman. Beautiful, blonde, legs for days. But she isn’t you, and I refuse to settle on my birthday.”

“It won’t be your birthday by the time you go.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to trade one of those handy vouchers for a holiday with you. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s all I want.”

The bird, the fear, and the doubt don’t stand a chance. 

Of all the places Bernie imagined kissing Serena again, Albie’s hadn’t made the list. Nor had the airport, a plane, or a gorgeous stretch of beach on the coast of Lisbon.  But Bernie kisses Serena at all of them. And many places more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, settings, or stories recognizable as being from Holby City. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.


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